29 April 2008

So twice five miles of fertile groundWith walls and towers were girdled round :And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;And here were forests ancient as the hills,Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slantedDown the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !A savage place ! as holy and enchantedAs e'er beneath a waning moon was hauntedBy woman wailing for her demon-lover !And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,A mighty fountain momently was forced :Amid whose swift half-intermitted burstHuge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail :And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and everIt flung up momently the sacred river.Five miles meandering with a mazy motionThrough wood and dale the sacred river ran,Then reached the caverns measureless to man,And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean :And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from farAncestral voices prophesying war !

The shadow of the dome of pleasureFloated midway on the waves ;Where was heard the mingled measureFrom the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice ! A damsel with a dulcimerIn a vision once I saw :It was an Abyssinian maid,And on her dulcimer she played,Singing of Mount Abora.Could I revive within meHer symphony and song,To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That with music loud and long,I would build that dome in air,That sunny dome ! those caves of ice !And all who heard should see them there,And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !His flashing eyes, his floating hair !Weave a circle round him thrice,And close your eyes with holy dread,For he on honey-dew hath fed,And drunk the milk of Paradise.

It's true that all the men you knew were dealerswho said they were through with dealingEvery time you gave them shelterI know that kind of manIt's hard to hold the hand of anyonewho is reaching for the sky just to surrenderwho is reaching for the sky just to surrender.

And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behindyou find he did not leave you very much not even laughterLike any dealer he was watching for the cardthat is so high and wildhe'll never need to deal anotherHe was just some Joseph looking for a mangerHe was just some Joseph looking for a manger.

And then leaning on your window sillhe'll say one day you caused his willto weaken with your love and warmth and shelterAnd then taking from his walletan old schedule of trains, he'll sayI told you when I came I was a strangerI told you when I came I was a stranger.

But now another stranger seemsto want you to ignore his dreamsas though they were the burden of some otherO you've seen that man beforehis golden arm dispatching cardsbut now it's rusted from the elbows to the fingerAnd he wants to trade the game he plays for shelterYes he wants to trade the game he knows for shelter.

Ah you hate to see another tired manlay down his handlike he was giving up the holy game of pokerAnd while he talks his dreams to sleepyou notice there's a highwaythat is curling up like smoke above his shoulderIt is curling just like smoke above his shoulder.

You tell him to come in sit downbut something makes you turn aroundThe door is open you can't close your shelterYou try the handle of the roadIt opens do not be afraidIt's you my love, you who are the strangerIt's you my love, you who are the stranger.

Well, I've been waiting, I was surewe'd meet between the trains we're waiting forI think it's time to board anotherPlease understand, I never had a secret chartto get me to the heart of thisor any other matterWhen he talks like thisyou don't know what he's afterWhen he speaks like this,you don't know what he's after.

Let's meet tomorrow if you chooseupon the shore, beneath the bridgethat they are building on some endless riverThen he leaves the platformfor the sleeping car that's warmYou realize, he's only advertising one more shelterAnd it comes to you, he never was a strangerAnd you say ok the bridge or someplace later.

27 April 2008

"The City of Toys"

The road divides the city in two:on this side, in light,the leather snakesweats in the showcase,the crocodile opens and closes its eyes,the kangaroo cracks walnuts with its navel,standing opposite a penguin with beadsaround its neck.

On the other side, in the wild darkness,the shadows of peoplehang suspended among branches,then fall: a boar,a wolf, another one a tiger,and they drink oil and vinegar in the river,

25 April 2008

"Golgotha Is a Mountain

Golgotha is a mountain, a purple mound Almost out of sight. One night they hanged two thieves there, And another man. Some women wept heavily that night; Their tears are flowing still. They have made a river; Once it covered me. Then the people went away and left Golgotha Deserted. Oh, I've seen many mountains: Pale purple mountains melting in the evening mists and blurring on the borders of the sky. I climbed old Shasta and chilled my hands in its summer snows. I rested in the shadow of Popocatepetl and it whispered to me of daring prowess. I looked upon the Pyrenees and felt the zest of warm exotic nights. I slept at the foot of Fujiyama and dreamed of legend and of death. And I've seen other mountains rising from the wistful moors like the breasts of a slender maiden. Who knows the mystery of mountains! Some of them are awful, others are just lonely.

* * *

Italy has its Rome and California has San Francisco, All covered with mountains. Some think these mountains grew Like ant hills Or sand dunes. That might be so-- I wonder what started them all! Babylon is a mountain And so is Nineveh, With grass growing on them; Palaces and hanging gardens started them. I wonder what is under the hills In Mexico And Japan! There are mountains in Africa, too. Treasure is buried there: Gold and precious stones And moulded glory. Lush grass is growing there Sinking before the wind. Black men are bowing Naked in that grass Digging with their fingers. I am one of them: Those mountains should be ours. It would be great To touch the pieces of glory with our hands.

These mute unhappy hills, Bowed down with broken backs, Speak often one to another: "A day is as a year," they cry, "And a thousand years as one day." We watched the caravan That bore our queen to the courts of Solomon; And when the first slave traders came We bowed our heads. "Oh, Brothers, it is not long! Dust shall yet devour the stones But we shall be here when they are one." Mountains are rising all around me. Some are so small they are not seen; Others are large. All of them get big in time and people forget What started them at first. Oh the world is covered with mountains! Beneath each one there is something buried: Some pile of wreckage that started it there. Mountains are lonely and some are awful.

* * *

One day I will crumble. They'll cover my heap with dirt and that will make a mountain. I think it will be Golgotha."

Once when they found me, some refrain Quoi faire?Striking my hands, they say repeatedlyI muttered; although I could hear and seeI knew no one. --I am silent in my chair,And stronger and more cold is my despairAt last, for I have come into a countryWhose vivid Queen upon no melodyAdmits me. Manchmal glaub' ich, ich kann nicht mehr.Song follows song, the chatterer to the fireWould follow soon... Deep in Ur's royal pitsSit still the courtly bodies, a little bowlBy each, attired to voluntary blitz...In Shub-ad's grave the fingers of a girlWere touching still, when they found her, the strings of her lyre.

20 April 2008

Many such goblets · had gone to the earth-house,legacies left · by a lordly people.In an earlier age · someone unknownhad cleverly covered · these costly treasures.That throne held the hoard · for the lifetime allowed him,but gold could not gladden · a man in mourning.Newly-built · near the breaking waves,a barrow stood · at the base of a bluff,its entrance sculpted · by secret arts.Earthward the warrior · bore the hoard-worthyportion of plate, · the golden craftwork.The ringkeeper spoke · these words as he went:

"Hold now, Earth, · what men may not,the hoard of the heroes, · earth-gotten wealthwhen it first was won. · War-death has felled them,an evil befalling · each of my people.The household is mirthless · when men are lifeless.I have none to wear sword, · none to bear wineor polish the precious · vessels and plates.Gone are the brethren · who braved many battles.From the hard helmet · the hand-wrought gildingdrops in the dust. · Asleep are the smithswho knew how to burnish · the war-chief's maskor mend the mail-shirts · mangled in battle.Shields and mail-shirts · molder with warriorsand follow no foes · to faraway fields.No harp rejoices · to herald the heroes,no hand-fed hawk · swoos through the hall,no stallion stamps · in the stronghold's courtyard.Death has undone · many kindreds of men."

17 April 2008

A Crocodile

Hard by the lilied Nile I sawA duskish river-dragon stretched along,The brown habergeon of his limbs enamelledWith sanguine almandines and rainy pearl:And on his back there lay a young one sleeping,No bigger than a mouse; with eyes like beads,And a small fragment of its speckled eggRemaining on its harmless, pulpy snout;A thing to laugh at, as it gaped to catchThe baulking, merry flies. In the iron jawsOf the great devil-beast, like a pale soulFluttering in rocky hell, lightsomely flewA snowy troculus, with roseate beakTearing the hairy leeches from his throat.

In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey butane in my veins so i'm out to cut the junkie with the plastic eyeballs spray paint the vegetables dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose kill the headlights and put it in neutral stock car flamin' with a loser and the cruise control baby's in Reno with the vitamin D got a couple of couches sleep on the love seat someone keeps sayin' I'm insane to complain about a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt don't believe everything that you breathe you get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve so shave your face with some mace in the dark savin' all your food stamps and burnin' down the trailer park (yo cut it) Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me? (double-barrel buckshot) Soy un perdedor i'm a loser baby,so why don't you kill me? Forces of evil in a bozo nightmare banned all the music with a phony gas chamber 'cuz one's got a weasel and the other's got a flag one's got on the pole shove the other in a bag with the rerun shows and the cocaine nose job the daytime crap with the folksinger slop he hung himself with a guitar string slap the turkey neck and it's hangin' on a pigeon wing you can't write if you can't relate trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate and my time is a piece of wax fallin' on a termite who's chokin' on the splinters Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me? (get crazy with the cheeze whiz) Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me? (drive-by body pierce) (yo bring it on down) soooooooyy.... (I'm a driver I'm a winner things are gonna change I can feel it) Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me? (I can't believe you) Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me? Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me? [repeat] (Sprechen sie Deutches, baby) Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me? (Know what I'm sayin'?)

12 April 2008

Dover Beach

The sea is calm to-night.The tide is full, the moon lies fairUpon the straits; on the French coast the lightGleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!Only, from the long line of sprayWhere the sea meets the moon-blanched land,Listen! you hear the grating roarOf pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,At their return, up the high strand,Begin, and cease, and then again begin,With tremulous cadence slow, and bringThe eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long agoHeard it on the A gaean, and it broughtInto his mind the turbid ebb and flowOf human misery; weFind also in the sound a thought,Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of FaithWas once, too, at the full, and round earth's shoreLay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.But now I only hearIts melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,Retreating, to the breathOf the night-wind, down the vast edges drearAnd naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be trueTo one another! for the world, which seemsTo lie before us like a land of dreams,So various, so beautiful, so new,Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;And we are here as on a darkling plainSwept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Boiling in my spirit's veins With fierce indignation, From my bitterness of soul Springs self-revelation: Framed am I of flimsy stuff, Fit for levitation, Like a thin leaf which the wind Scatters from its station.

While it is the wise man's part With deliberation On a rock to base his heart's Permanent foundation, With a running river I Find my just equation, Which beneath the self-same sky Hath no habitation.

Carried am I like a ship Left without a sailor, Like a bird that through the air Flies where tempests hale her; Chains and fetters hold me not, Naught avails a jailer; Still I find my fellows out Toper, gamester, railer.

To my mind all gravity Is a grave subjection; Sweeter far than honey are Jokes and free affection. All that Venus bids me do, Do I with erection, For she ne'er in heart of man Dwelt with dull dejection.

Down the broad road do I run, As the way of youth is; Snare myself in sin, and ne'er Think where faith and truth is; Eager far for pleasure more Than soul's health, the sooth is, For this flesh of mine I care, Seek not ruth where ruth is.

Prelate, most discreet of priests, Grant me absolution! Dear's the death whereof I die, Sweet my dissolution; For my heart is wounded br Beauty's soft suffusion; All the girls I come not nigh, Mine are in illusion.

'Tis most arduous to make Nature's self surrender; Seeing girls, to blush and be Purity's defender! We young men our longings ne'er Shall to stern law render, Or preserve our fancies from Bodies smooth and tender.

Who, when into fire he falls, Keeps himself from burning? Who within Pavia's walls Fame of chaste is earning? Venus with her finger calls Youths at every turning, Snares them with her eyes, and thralls With her amorous yearning.

If you brought Hippolitus To Pavia Sunday, He'd not be Hippolitus On the following Monday; Venus there keeps holiday Every day as one day; 'Mid these towers in no tower dwells Venus Verecunda. [a modest Venus]

In the second place I own To the vice of gaming: Cold indeed outside I seem, Yet my soul is flaming: But when once the dice-box hath Stripped me to mv shaming, Make I songs and verses fit For the world's acclaiming.

In the third place, 1 will speak Of the tavern's pleasure; For I never found nor find There the least displeasure; Nor shall find it till I greet Angels without measure, Singing requiems for the souls In eternal leisure.

In the public-house to die Is my resolution; Let wine to my lips be nigh At life's dissolution: That will make the angels cry, With glad elocution, "Grant this toper, God on high, Grace and absolution!"

With the cup the soul lights up, Inspirations flicker; Nectar lifts the soul on high With its heavenly ichor: To my lips a sounder taste Hath the tavern's liquor Than the wine a village clerk Waters for the vicar.

Nature gives to every man Some gift serviceable; Write I never could nor can Hungry at the table; Fasting, any stripling to Vanquish me is able; Hunger, thirst, I liken to Death that ends the fable.

Nature gives to every man Gifts as she is willing; I compose my verses when Good wine I am swilling, Wine the best for jolly guest Jolly hosts are filling; From such wine rare fancies fine Flow like dews distilling.

Such my verse is wont to be As the wine I swallow; No ripe thoughts enliven me While my stomach's hollow; Hungry wits on hungry lips Like a shadow follow, But when once I'm in my cups, I can beat Apollo.

Never to my spirit yet Flew poetic vision Until first my belly bad Plentiful provision; Let but Bacchus in the brain Take a strong position, Then comes Phoebus flowing in With a fine precision.

There are poets, worthy men, Shrink from public places, And in lurking-hole or den Hide their pallid faces; There they study, sweat, and woo Pallas and the Graces, But bring nothing forth to view Worth the girls' embraces.

Fasting, thirsting, toil the bards, Swift years flying o'er them; Shun the strife of open life, Tumults of the forum; They, to sing some deathless thing, Lest the world ignore them, Die the death, expend their breath, Drowned in dull decorum.

Lo! mv frailties I've betrayed, Shown you every token, Told you what your servitors Have against me spoken; But of those men each and all Leave their sins unspoken, Though they play, enjoy to-day, Scorn their pledges broken.

Now within the audience-room Of this blessed prelate, Sent to hunt out vice, and from Hearts of men expel it; Let him rise, nor spare the bard, Cast at him a pellet: He whose heart knows not crime's smart, Show my sin and tell it!

I have uttered openly All I knew that shamed me, And have spued the poison forth That so long defamed me; Of my old ways I repent, New life hath reclaimed me; God beholds the heart-'twas man Viewed the face and blamed me.

Goodness now hath won my love, I am wroth with vices; Made a new man in my mind, Lo, my soul arises! Like a babe new milk I drink- Milk for me suffices, Lest my heart should longer be Filled with vain devices.

Thou Elect of fair Cologne, [ie Rainald of Dassel] Listen to my pleading! Spurn not thou the penitent; See, his heart is bleeding! Give me penance! what is due For my faults exceeding I will bear with willing cheer, All thy precepts heeding.

Lo, the lion, king of beasts, Spares the meek and lowly; Toward submissive creatures he Tames his anger wholly. Do the like, ye powers of earth, Temporal and holy! Bitterness is more than's right When 'tis bitter solely.

08 April 2008

Hymn

I know if I find you I will have to leave the earthand go on out over the sea marshes and the brant in baysand over the hills of tall hickoryand over the crater lakes and canyonsand on up through the spheres of diminishing airpast the blackset noctilucent clouds where one wants to stop and lookway past all the light diffusions and bombardmentsup farther than the loss of sight into the unseasonal undifferentiated empty stark

And I know if I find you I will have to stay with the earthinspecting with thin tools and ground eyestrusting the microvilli sporangia and simplest coelenteratesand praying for a nerve cellwith all the soul of my chemical reactionsand going right on down where the eye sees only traces

You are everywhere partial and entireYou are on the inside of everything and on the outside

I walk down the path down the hill where the sweetgumhas begun to ooze spring sap at the cutand I see how the bark cracks and winds like no other barkchasmal to my ant-soul running up and downand if I find you I must go out deep into your far resolutionsand if I find you I must stay here with the separate leaves